


Long Nights

by SweetestHoney



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I think Jaskier appreciates that, Jaskier is a babie rookie cop, Lambert is such an ass, M/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, he's just a twink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Jaskier has been a cop for 6 months now, and he's not sure if it's really the job for him. He's given all night shifts, watching for drunk drivers on the highways, and he's sick and tired of it. When he pulls Geralt over, the large man is striking, and Jaskier is captivated by the his beauty. After happening to run into the other man again, Jaskier realizes he might not be the only one who was a little caught in the pull between them.I realize that makes it sound like there's dramatic plot, but really it's just an excuse to have Geralt fucking twinky-rookie-cop Jaskier in a semi-public place, which is what I was craving. And what Jaskier was craving as well.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 326





	Long Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of.....American? I'm sorry for that, I know they're not really American, but I control almost nothing and these assholes will do what they want, with or without my help.

The night was a long one, and Jaskier was pretty damn tired of long and sleepless nights. He perked up when he saw a car coming down the highway – at 3 in the morning, there weren’t many people speeding, which lessened his ability to give tickets. 

Jaskier had been on the force for just under six months, and he was starting to think that maybe being a cop wasn’t the job for him. Sure, at 23, the idea of a fat salary and promised pension was still more tempting than he could turn away from, but in the time since he completed his training, he’d been assigned mostly overnight shifts watching the highways for speeders and drunk drivers. 

And hell, even that was alright on a friday or a saturday, when he was handing out enough tickets to feel like his presence along the side of the road was warranted. This late on a Tuesday night, however, just meant he was stuck by himself in his cruiser for hours at a time, pulling over maybe two or three drivers for going ten miles over. 

He had a job to do, though, and no matter what he thought of it he still owed it to the department to do his best. He pulled out from behind the pylon he’d parked behind as the car approached, and when they passed him he flicked on the lights, signaling to pull over. 

The car in front of him slowed, and Jaskier for half a second almost wished that they’d sped up, tried to outrun him. They’d have lost, of course, but it would have been more interesting than writing a ticket for some 50 year old man who’d dozed off at the wheel. 

Before he got out of his cruiser, Jaskier straightened his uniform, checking the gun holstered at his side and his baton. He’d nearly laughed when he realized that yes, they were actually going to give him a gun, and yes, they expected him to know how to use it, but in the end he’d actually done alright shooting at cardboard targets and had passed without a hiccup. He hoped against every hope that he’d never have to use it, of course, but he was glad to not have embarrassed himself with it. 

The police uniform still made him feel more like a boy wearing his father’s clothes for dress up than an actual officer, but it was mandatory until he could take the training and exams to be a detective, which was at least another four and a half years away. Jaskier could make it that long, he  _ had _ to. In any case, he straightened his clothes and then walked to the other car in front of him. 

“L-License and registration, please.” As he spoke, Jaskier got a good look at the man in the driver’s seat and almost stumbled, his words coming out clumsy instead of the bored practiced tone he’d perfected. The driver was  _ gorgeous _ , with long blonde hair that was almost white tied in a messy bun, a strong muscular frame that sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine, and golden eyes that reflected the lights from Jaskier’s cruiser. 

The man grimaced at him but nodded and took one hand off the wheel, reaching for the glove compartment. Before he could grab the registration, however, a hand came from the backseat to tug at the driver’s shirtsleeve. 

“Geeerrrraaaaltttt!” The voice was male and whiny and when Jaskier shone his flashlight into the car, he made out two men sitting in the back, both looking very drunk. He sniffed and caught a waft of alcohol-laced air from inside the car and frowned. Jaskier’s frown had no effect on the man tugging at the sleeve of the driver, however, and he just kept talking. “Geralt, we should – I want McDonalds, I’ll pay for it, I’ve got the money!” 

Jaskier seriously doubted that. The driver just gently dislodged the man’s hand from his shirt and shushed him, grabbing his registration and handing it to Jaskier with his license. Jaskier took them, unable to keep from looking a second longer at the driver, who met his stare with a blank expression before raising one eyebrow. 

Jaskier felt himself flush and gave a quick nod, turning on his heel and taking the man’s information back to his own car so he could look him up. The computer confirmed that the driver’s name was Geralt DeRivia, and Jaskier glanced over the man’s record. He’d been arrested a few times for petty crimes like breaking and entering, probably when he was a teenager, if Jaskier went by the dates, but otherwise he had a clean record and seemed like a law-abiding citizen. 

He’d only been speeding by a little bit, which made Jaskier all the more surprised by the way the car reeked of alcohol. Usually when people were driving drunk, they’d been charged with it before and it showed a clear pattern in their records, but this Geralt didn’t seem like the type. 

Jaskier finished up inputting everything he needed to, and grabbed his ticket book. He wasn’t sure yet if the man would be getting a ticket, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. 

When he got back to the driver’s side window of the other car, Geralt was still sitting there, hands clamped around the wheel. The two men in the backseat of the car had started singing something truly horrendous, some bastardized rendition of one of the pop songs from a few years back, and Jaskier had to work hard to control his wince. 

“Mr. DeRivia, have you had anything to drink tonight?” Jaskier was proud of the way his voice didn’t shake as he questioned the man, especially when Geralt turned to him, raising his eyebrow once more. 

“Just water.” 

Jaskier waited a beat and it became clear that Geralt wasn’t planning to add more. He frowned at the man and narrowed his eyes. “Well, see, your car smells rather strongly of alcohol, so I’m having a hard time believing that, and you do seem to be accompanied by some friends who are rather inebriated.” 

Geralt just blinked at him, face still set in the neutral-but-somehow-still-murderous expression. “I’m the designated driver. These idiots–” he gestured back to the two men, “are my brothers, and they thought it was a good idea to pour the end of the keg over my head when their football team won.” The strained, annoyed tone of his voice certainly made more sense as an annoyed DD, rather than someone drinking and driving. Jaskier believed his story. 

But, well. Nobody could ever accuse Jaskier of being  _ sensible _ , and Geralt was quite attractive, and he was  _ bored, _ alright? 

“Alright sir, I’ll have to ask you to step out of the car please.” At Jaskier’s words, Geralt grunted out an annoyed noise but did as he was told, opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement. 

As he watched, Jaskier licked his lips at the sight of the man’s frame. He’d been correct in his initial assessment – the man was a  _ god _ . Wide shoulders, thick, muscular thighs, and hands that could easily wrap all the way around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier was  _ fucked _ . 

A huff pulled him out of his fantasies and Jaskier blinked, finding Geralt looking back at him, waiting. He flushed, glad that it was dark out, and quickly explained the sobriety test. Geralt just needed to walk along the line painted on the side of the road without missing any steps (or falling over, as Jaskier had seen once) and he’d be free to go. 

Geralt grunted again but did as he was told, walking with one foot in front of the other towards Jaskier and then turning around to walk in the opposite direction. Jaskier nearly stopped breathing as his eyes fell upon the man’s ass, but he forced himself to look away, gathering himself. When Geralt turned back to face him, hands held up in question, Jaskier gave him a short nod and hooked one thumb into a belt loop, clenching his fist as he tried not to drool. 

“Yes, well, thank you, Mr. DeRivia.” The words felt odd in Jaskier’s mouth, his tongue kept wanting to call the man  _ Geralt _ . “You’re free to go, just mind the speed limits from here to where you’re headed, alright?”

Geralt nodded at him. “Thank you, officer.” Jaskier’s spine tingled at the title, and not in the way it usually did when he was called ‘officer’. Something in Geralt’s tone said  _ exactly  _ what he thought of the fresh-faced junior officer, barely out of training, and there was a not insubstantial part of Jaskier that  _ wanted  _ the man to show him the disdain he had for Jaskier’s position of power. If he’d wanted to, Geralt could have snapped Jaskier like a twig, officer training or no, and Jaskier was  _ hungry _ for it. 

But that would be both highly inappropriate and also just a bad idea in so very,  _ very _ many ways, so Jaskier just nodded at him again and watched as Geralt got back into his car. He drove off after another minute, having had a short talk with the two drunk men in his backseat that Jaskier couldn’t hear. 

Jaskier sighed and leaned against his cruiser, closing his eyes against the images of Geralt doing any number of terrible things to him. 

By the time the next week rolled around, Jaskier had mostly forgotten about the incident. Well, what he meant by ‘mostly forgotten’ was that he’d stopped touching himself multiple times a day at the idea of Geralt DeRivia bending him over the hood of his squad car and fucking him so hard he couldn’t sit for a week. 

He didn’t know what it was about the man that had him so bewitched, but he was determined to put him out of his mind. It was altogether more likely than not that Jaskier would never see him again, given the size of the city and the fact that he had almost nothing to go on aside from the man’s name. If he felt like doing some snooping, Jaskier could have gone back and looked up his address, but that felt like an invasion of the man’s privacy. Not to mention the fact that Jaskier wouldn’t exactly know what to  _ do _ with said information – show up at his door and ask him out? 

Jaskier snorted to himself at that thought, the idea of asking out a man who looked like he’d be more likely to kill him with one hand than say yes. Not that Jaskier really expected him to be the type of guy who would do something like that, of course, but why take that chance?

He shook his head, trying to throw off the errant thoughts. A yawn pushed its way out of his mouth and he smothered it with one hand, blinking hard in an attempt to keep the exhaustion at bay. The months of night shift were getting to him, and while Jaskier didn’t mind the long hours, he was really starting to get sick of not being able to go get drunk after a long shift, since his shifts usually ended around 6 am. 

That’s how he found himself checking out a diner he’d heard about from a friend, someone he’d had training with. They said the food was good and the place opened early enough that you could go after a night shift and get food before most other places would serve you. 

When Jaskier pushed the door open, a bell rang and a disheveled man hurried out from a back room, a smile plastered over his face. 

“Hello!” The man looked vaguely familiar, but Jaskier couldn’t place him. He waved off the thought, thinking it was probably someone he’d either pulled over or otherwise interacted with and that it wasn’t worth trying to figure out. Apart from Jaskier and the man that ushered him to a corner booth, the diner was empty. He looked around the small room before looking back to the man, who gave him a shrug and a rueful smile. 

“Monday mornings are slow; everyone’s still sleeping off the weekend. You shoulda seen it in here yesterday at this time though; we had a line around the corner.” The man grinned at him, giving Jaskier a quick once-over. “I’m sure you were busy at that time, of course, officer, lots of people to protect, hmm?” 

The man’s words should have been sarcastic but they didn’t feel like he was making fun of Jaskier, still in his uniform from shift. Jaskier got a vague air of camaraderie from the man more than anything else, and he just gave a small smile and a nod in return, turning his attention to the menu in front of him. 

Gods, he loved diners. Every option was sure to be soaked in grease, Jaskier knew it, and best of all it looked like they would serve him whatever he wanted no matter what time of day it was. While he had nothing against breakfast food, Jaskier had started craving dinner food when he got off shift, and it was with welcome relief that he ordered a cheeseburger from the still hovering man. 

Order taken, the man jotted it down on a pad and took the menu back. He put it away before walking over to the large window in the wall between the dining area and the kitchen. “Geralt! Get off your lazy ass, I’ve got an order for you!” 

Jaskier started a little at the name but he shook himself. Surely,  _ surely _ there were plenty of Geralts – there was absolutely no chance that it’d be the same one. But even as he thought that, he refocused on the man who’d taken his order, hazy memory snapping into place as he remembered a flash of that same face drunkenly singing Brittany Spears and trying to wheedle McDonalds out of his brother. 

His brother, Geralt. Who was now standing behind what Jaskier assumed was a grill on the other side of the kitchen window with a grimace on his face. 

“You don’t have to fucking yell, Lambert, I can hear you just fine from the office at a normal volume.” Geralt seemed just as grumpy as the night Jaskier had met him, if not moreso, with his hair pulled up and away from his face as he glared at his brother. 

The disheveled man, who Jaskier now knew was  _ Lambert _ , shot Geralt a grin and a wink. “But it’s no fun if I can’t annoy you.” 

Geralt grunted and rolled his eyes before grabbing the order ticket and looking at it. “Hmmph, woulda expected eggs. Gimmie a minute.” 

He turned and walked out of Jaskier’s line of sight, clearly grabbing something. Jaskier was frozen, unsure whether or not the man would recognize him. 

Lambert turned back to him and frowned, seeing Jaskier’s obvious hesitation. “You alright there? Looking a little peaky.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “Fine, I’m fine, just….just realized something. But it’s fine.” He resettled himself in the booth, determined not to be weird about it. So what if the man haunting his dreams just so happened to work at the diner he’d chosen to eat at, out of hundreds in the city? It was fine, he was fine, everything would be fine. Really, Geralt hadn’t noticed him yet – maybe he’d be able to skate by without the large man even seeing him. 

As he thought that, Geralt walked back into view holding a hamburger bun and flicked his eyes up, catching Jaskier’s. Jaskier stopped breathing, unsure what to do as the other man stared at him. He wasn’t the only one to remember the short interaction, at least, if the way Geralt’s eyes narrowed at him was anything to go by. Geralt dropped the food he was holding onto something in front of him, probably the grill, and he looked from Jaskier to Lambert, who had wandered back over to the host stand and was cleaning his nails. 

“Lambert, go take a smoke break. I’ll yell if I need you.” At Geralt’s terse words, Lambert looked up at him in confusion before shrugging. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket and slipped out the front door, making the bell above the door ring. 

Jaskier was now left alone with Geralt, and he wasn’t sure if it was a very good sign, or a very bad one. As soon as Lambert was gone, Geralt refocused his glare on Jaskier. 

“You following me or something?” The question was rude but not aggressive, and Jaskier hurried to shake his head no. 

“I’m not! I just, I’d heard this place was good and I just got off shift, was hungry.” Jaskier shrugged, unsure why the other man made him so nervous. “Didn’t know you worked here, or even if you’d remember me.” Geralt’s eyes narrowed further, and Jaskier gulped. “I can, if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can - I can go, if you want.” Jaskier didn’t particularly want to go – he wanted to stand square in the man’s fierce gaze and just be  _ looked _ at, to be given the intensity of the man’s focus all squarely trained on him – but he also didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. 

Geralt considered the offer a moment and then shook his head. “No, you can stay. Hungry, you said?” 

Jaskier licked his lips, feeling a different sort of hunger than the one he’d entered with. “Y-Yeah, hungry.” 

Geralt’s hands were already moving, doing something below the lip of the window that Jaskier couldn’t see. He heard something sizzling, though, and soon he could smell food cooking. He kept his eyes trained on Geralt, watching the man navigate the kitchen with an easy grace that spoke to both a handle of his own body kinesics and a comfort with the kitchen that could only come from years spent there. 

When Geralt flicked his eyes back to Jaskier and found the smaller man staring at him, he cocked his head slightly. 

“You’re staring.” Geralt’s words weren’t a chastisement, and Jaskier just shrugged in response. 

“Yeah, not much else to do. I can stop?” 

Geralt was already shaking his head, and he eyed Jaskier for another moment before quirking a finger at him, gesturing him over. “Hmmph. If you’re gonna stare, you might as well do it somewhere you’d actually be able to see what I’m doing.” 

Jaskier, who was perfectly fine watching Geralt’s face as he worked, shrugged and stood before walking closer to the kitchen. When he hovered beside the window, feeling awkward, Geralt rolled his eyes and pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open with an elbow. Jaskier stepped through and stopped, unsure what he was supposed to be doing and where Geralt wanted him. Geralt nodded towards a folding chair to the side and Jaskier sat, still watching the man as he worked. 

Geralt’s hands never stopped moving, gathering ingredients and poking at the burger on the stove as he went. It was graceful, pretty even, and Jaskier tried very hard not to think about what he wanted those hands to do to him, instead focusing on what Geralt was doing even harder. 

A snort made him look up, and he caught the sight of a smile on the man’s face before it was wiped away. “You’re staring pretty hard.” 

Jaskier spluttered, throwing his hands up in askenence. “I’m – yes, I’m staring, you asked me to come back here and watch, so I’m watching, I don’t - I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.” 

Geralt hummed, not giving him an answer. After another moment he spoke again. “You’re a little young to be a cop, aren’t you?” 

Jaskier sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I’m 23, thanks for pointing it out. It’s not like I don’t get people not listening to me already because of how young I am.” 

It didn’t happen often, the uniform did a lot to compel obedience, but Geralt seemed completely unaffected by Jaskier’s apparent position of power. Jaskier found that he rather appreciated it, actually. 

“Ah. Rookie cop, got the worst shifts?” Geralt seemed to be genuine in his commiserating with an off duty police officer about getting shitty shifts and Jaskier was forced to nod. 

“Yeah, well. I won’t be the youngest forever, and then it’ll be better.” He shrugged, looking away from Geralt and towards the rest of the cramped room. There was a door to what he assumed was a freezer on one side, another door on the other side of the room that was closed. Jaskier figured that must be the office Geralt had mentioned. 

Geralt didn’t answer him back, and Jaskier hummed, changing topics in hopes of getting more of a response. “But enough about me, I’m more curious about how someone like you ends up cooking at a diner.” 

That comment got him a frown and another raised eyebrow, and Jaskier hurried to hold his hands up, showing he meant no harm. “Not that, I’m not saying anything about your job! Just that, you know, you’re kind of built like a brick shithouse and that’s not always the most necessary for a job where you’re standing over a grill.” 

Jaskier thought he caught another flash of a smile, but the expression was wiped from the man’s face before he could properly parse it. Geralt looked away from him, scooping the cooked food together and onto a plate before he turned to eye Jaskier again. “Hmmph.” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes at that. “Ah yes, more grunting, very good, completely cleared that up.” Despite his words, he stood and held his hands out for the plate, expecting to be sent away so he could eat and Geralt could….do whatever it was that he did when Jaskier wasn’t around. 

Geralt didn’t hand it to him, instead setting the plate down on the table next to the grill and looking back at Jaskier calmly. Jaskier dropped his hand with another huff. “Okay, very funny, either feed me or don’t but I have no idea what you’re trying to communicate here.” Jaskier gestured at the space between them and before he could do anything else, Geralt had grabbed his arm, pulling Jaskier to his feet. In a matter of seconds, the smaller man was pressed along Geralt’s front. 

Jaskier nearly whimpered at the feeling of so much warm muscle against him, but he held it in through sheer force of will. Surely,  _ surely _ Geralt was not trying to convey what Jaskier hoped he was. Jaskier was never that lucky. 

Rough hands gripped his face and then Jaskier was being kissed, and he whimpered after all, the sound caught against Geralt’s lips as the larger man slotted their mouths together to deepen the kiss. 

When Geralt finally pulled back, Jaskier was out of breath and Geralt was decidedly less so, something Jaskier was determined to change. He didn’t get a chance to voice his frustration, however, as Geralt angled his head up so they were looking each other in the eyes. 

“You want this?” Geralt’s words were soft and Jaskier had to strain to hear them, but when he did he nodded emphatically. 

“Yes, gods, please – fuck, this,  _ more _ , anything.” That seemed to be the right answer since Geralt kissed him again, hands coming down to grip Jaskier’s ass and grind their bodies together. Jaskier whined low in his throat as he felt Geralt’s dick, hard through his leather trousers, (and who the fuck wore leather trousers to work as a cook, really?) and larger than Jaskier dreamed he’d be. 

When they broke the kiss once more, Geralt hauled Jaskier up in a show of strength and turned him around, pushing until Jaskier was braced facedown on the small table beside the grill, his face level with the kitchen window. If anyone were to walk into the diner, they’d immediately be able to see what Jaskier and Geralt were doing. 

Jaskier found himself not caring about that in the slightest, and Geralt’s hands on his ass were enough to drive the thought fully from his mind as the larger man palmed him roughly, thumbs dipping under the hem of his uniform pants to tease him. 

“ _ Fuck, _ Geralt, that’s – fuck, please, I need more, I need–” One hand clamped over Jaskier’s mouth, quieting his babbling as Geralt rubbed against his ass. Jaskier didn’t feel a single second of fear at what the larger man could do to him, though; Geralt’s hand over his mouth felt more secure than anything else, and he relaxed into the grip. 

The hand not over Jaskier’s mouth slipped to the front of his pants, unzipping them and tugging them down until they rested around Jaskier’s knees. Jaskier wriggled in Geralt’s grip, trying to help, until Geralt leaned forward to nip at Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier yelped through the hand at his mouth. 

“Stop trying to help. I’ve got it.” The words were warm against his neck and Jaskier nodded his agreement, letting himself relax fully into Geralt’s hold. The man used his free hand to position Jaskier how he wanted, kicking his legs wider apart and bending him over the cluttered tabletop, his ass in the air. 

When Geralt finally freed his own cock from his pants, Jaskier went a little woozy as he felt it rubbing against him, the thick, hot line making him dizzy with want. Jaskier squirmed in Geralt’s hold, trying to press back against that magnificent cock, and Geralt landed a light slap to his ass. 

“Be patient.” The slap didn’t hurt all that much and the words were murmured, not angry, but Jaskier couldn’t help the thrill that the reprimand sent down his spine. He hadn’t forgotten that this was a man who could  _ ruin _ him if he wanted to. Jaskier was more than a little in favor of his being ruined. 

Geralt didn’t seem similarly inclined, at least for the moment, and he let go of Jaskier’s mouth to reach for something behind him, turning back to Jaskier with a bottle of some kind of vegetable oil in his hands. Jaskier didn’t pay it much attention, just nodded his agreement to whatever Geralt wanted to do, and soon he felt slicked fingers tracing down his back and slipping between his cheeks. 

The first touch to his hole was gentle, probing, and when Jaskier bucked back against him Geralt groaned softly and pushed harder against Jaskier’s ass, slipping one finger inside of him. Jaskier gasped at the sudden intrusion, holding onto the edge of the table tightly, and whined again when Geralt paused. 

“Don’t - don’t fucking  _ stop _ , fuck, please–” Jaskier only got a few words out before Geralt’s other hand was around his mouth once more, silencing him easily. He huffed through his nose but didn’t try to remove the hand over his mouth, settling for a lick to Geralt’s palm. Geralt grunted before switching his grip, sticking two fingers into Jaskier’s mouth for him to suck on. Jaskier sucked eagerly and he felt more than heard Geralt groan again as the man stepped closer to him, pressing his front to Jaskier’s back. Even as he pressed closer, Geralt worked to open Jaskier up, stretching him with a confidence that belied his experience in the matter. 

Jaskier couldn’t think, couldn’t do more than respond to the sensations Geralt was wringing from his body. When Geralt finally pulled his fingers out, satisfied at the preparation, Jaskier groaned, spreading his legs wider and pushing back against Geralt, breathless with need. 

Geralt responded by gripping Jaskier’s hips tightly, holding him against the table and pinning him. Jaskier gasped, trying to move, and found himself securely held down. When he wriggled against the grip, Geralt growled low in his ear. “Be good for me, hmm?” 

Jaskier stilled, not daring to breathe, and when Geralt finally pushed his dick against Jaskier’s opening Jaskier groaned loudly around the fingers in his mouth. Geralt’s low wordless growl quieted him, and Jaskier fell silent as Geralt pushed inside him, inch by torturous inch. 

When Geralt was  _ finally _ fully seated inside of Jaskier, his dick pressed against every little spot that sent sparks of pleasure up Jaskier’s spine, he stilled once more. Jaskier knew it had to be purposeful at this point and that Geralt was just torturing him for the fun of it – there was no other explanation. He kept as still and quiet as he could, hoping that by obeying the larger man he could entice Geralt to fucking  _ move _ at some point in the next decade. 

After another few moments of stillness, Geralt pulled out just an inch before slamming back into Jaskier, the force of the thrust pushing the cop further onto the table. Jaskier’s toes were barely touching the floor as he tried to hold himself up, tried to push back against Geralt’s thrusts. 

Geralt set a slow but forceful pace, rocking into Jaskier so deep that Jaskier’s vision dimmed as he scrabbled at the edge of the table, trying to find a handhold. When Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier, pressing his front against Jaskier’s back and putting his lips against Jaskier’s ear once more, his words were barely a whisper. 

“I’m going to let go of your mouth now.” It was a statement, but Jaskier nodded his agreement. The fingers hooked against his jaw gave a sharp tug, forcing him to focus on Geralt. “You’re going to Keep. Quiet.” Geralt’s words held dark promises of what would happen if Jaskier  _ didn’t _ do as he said, but Jaskier just nodded again, licking around the fingers in his mouth. Geralt grunted, a soft punched-out breath sound, and then the hand was gone from Jaskier’s face, both of Geralt’s hands gripping his hips tightly. 

Jaskier realized almost immediately why Geralt needed both hands, as the man hauled him up by the hips, angling Jaskier so he could more easily pound him into oblivion. The new angle meant Jaskier had no purchase on the floor whatsoever, just Geralt’s hands and the table pressed against his stomach holding him up, and he bit his lip on a moan, trying to keep quiet. 

The new pace Geralt hit was fast, his dick pistoning in and out of Jaskier and managing to rub over his prostate with every movement. Jaskier knew he wasn’t going to last very long, not at all, and he realized with some worry that he couldn’t spare a hand to touch himself since both of his gripped the table tightly, keeping him from falling flat on his face. 

Geralt didn’t seem inclined to help him out either, not with the way he was holding Jaskier’s hips up. When Jaskier felt himself nearing the edge, he gasped, shifting so he held all of his weight with one hand, letting go with the other and slipping it down his front. Before his fingers could even brush his dick, however, Geralt growled and let go of Jaskier’s hips in order to grab his arm, twisting it behind Jaskier’s back in a hold that wasn’t painful but that Jaskier wouldn’t be getting out of. 

With Geralt’s hands working to pin Jaskier’s, nothing was holding Jaskier’s hips up and he gasped as he felt gravity pulling him down, forcing Geralt’s dick that last quarter inch into him until Geralt was so deep that Jaskier was surprised he couldn’t taste him. 

He groaned again, not realizing that the sound was coming from him until he heard it. Geralt growled in his ear and pulled back from Jaskier’s body. Jaskier’s heart sped up impossibly faster, worried that Geralt would stop fucking him as a punishment for forgetting to be quiet. 

Geralt pulled out completely, leaving Jaskier feeling open and needy. It was only for a moment, however, and Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands lifting him like he weighed nothing before flipping him over and sitting him on the edge of the table. Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s chest and shoved all of the various plates and bottles and buckets off the table, clearing it so Jaskier could lean back on his elbows. Jaskier watched, eyes wide, as Geralt gripped his thighs and ripped his pants the rest of the way off his legs, tugging at them with a frustrated look in his eyes until they were finally on the floor. Geralt didn’t spare any time to celebrate the victory though and he just spread Jaskier’s thighs, repositioning himself at Jaskier’s entrance and pushing in with one thrust. 

Jaskier howled, gripping Geralt tightly between his legs as the man fucked into him once more. He leaned back on his elbows, using what little leverage he had to meet Geralt with every thrust. Geralt was focused, his eyes drinking up the expanse of skin in front of him as he fucked harder into Jaskier, his hands gripping Jaskier’s hips so tightly that Jaskier knew there’d be bruises. Jaskier didn’t mind the idea of bruises, and he moaned louder to let Geralt know just how alright he was with the rough treatment. 

At the sound of his moan, Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Jaskier’s. Jaskier gulped as he looked into Geralt’s eyes – the man’s expression was fierce, his eyebrows tight with focus. He looked like an animal, so intent on his prey that there was nothing else in the world but him and Jaskier. 

“G-Geralt, gonna – need to–” Jaskier’s words were stuttered and broken, his voice weak as Geralt continued his assault on Jaskier’s body, but Geralt seemed to understand what he was trying to say. Geralt leaned in, gripping Jaskier’s thighs and nearly bending him in half as he put his face right next to Jaskier’s. 

“You can come any time you’d like, but you better know that you’re only allowed to come on my dick. No touching yourself.” The statement was punctuated with another growl as Geralt dipped his head to leave what was sure to be a large bruise on Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier should have been annoyed, should have been something other than  _ turned on _ at the imperial decree that Geralt had just uttered, but the combination of Geralt’s words, the cock still fucking Jaskier full in the best of ways, and the scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin of his neck was what finally sent Jaskier over the edge.

His orgasm was so forceful that Jaskier’s whole vision dimmed, his line of sight narrowing to just Geralt’s eyes as the man tilted his head back from Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier had to shut his own eyes at the sight, Geralt’s face too intense as he watched Jaskier, and threw his head back as he came.

The sensation of Jaskier constricting around him was enough to tip Geralt over the edge into orgasm as well, and he roared as he came, hips stuttering in their movements as he sunk his teeth deep into Jaskier’s shoulder. The pain served to give Jaskier’s orgasm a sharper edge and he felt tears gathering in his eyes. 

Once they were both finished coming, Geralt slumped forward, his weight pinning Jaskier to the table. Jaskier’s legs were still around Geralt’s shoulders and the increased stretch in his thighs was starting to ache but he didn’t protest the closeness, instead slumping back bonelessly. Geralt's nose pressed against Jaskier's neck and he was breathing heavily, warm air puffing against Jaskier's skin. 

Another few moments passed and then Geralt was shifting, gently pulling away from Jaskier and easing the smaller man's legs from his shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles into Jaskier's skin as he tried to soothe the ache there. Jaskier didn't protest the soft treatment, enjoying the way Geralt's hands fluttered over his skin like he was something special. 

When Geralt finally pulled out of him, Jaskier had to stifle a wince at the hot, wet feeling as Geralt's cum dripped out of his abused hole. Geralt didn't miss the wince, however, and he pulled Jaskier's legs away from himself before kneeling down and nudging Jaskier so the cop lay back against the table, his thighs thrown over Geralt's shoulders. 

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, to insist that Geralt was not in any way expected to do what he was clearly about to do, but all sense left him as he felt the first touch of Geralt's tongue to his hole. Geralt licked at him, tongue wet and warm, and Jaskier squirmed, writhing as Geralt licked and slurped at his oversensitive skin, cleaning away all evidence of his spend. Jaskier might have been young, but even he couldn't get hard again that quickly, despite the eager twitches his cock kept making as Geralt tongued him. 

All too soon, Geralt leaned back, having cleaned Jaskier up to his satisfaction. Jaskier still felt slightly sticky but it was nothing compared to how he'd felt previously and he grunted, running a hand through his hair as Geralt stood, letting Jaskier's legs fall from his shoulders. 

They both just looked at each other for long moments, unsure where they went now. After another moment or two, Jaskier cleared his throat, unsure what he was going to say but positive that he should probably say  _ something _ . Before he could find the words, though, a voice rang out from the door to the diner. 

"Hey Geralt, if you're done fucking your twink, I've gotta piss. Could you wrap it up please?" Lambert's voice was more entertained than irritated, and Jaskier froze at the words. He was laying on the table under the lip of the window, so Lambert couldn't see him, but Geralt was in full view and Jaskier watched the man glare sternly in the direction of the door. There was a pregnant silence, and then the bell over the door dinged again, signaling that Lambert had most likely taken the hint and made himself scarce. 

Geralt looked back down at Jaskier, frowning. His hair had come partially undone as they fucked, and white-blonde wisps fluttered across his eyes as he leveled Jaskier with a look. "I told you to be quiet, you know." 

Whatever Jaskier had been expecting him to say, that wasn't it. At the surreal nature of the statement and the situation, Jaskier burst out laughing, throwing a hand over his eyes and falling back against the table in a heap. He kept laughing for long moments, unable to help himself, and when he finally calmed himself down, he looked up to see Geralt giving him a strange expression. His brows were drawn together and he looked down at Jaskier like he was a fragile thing, his lips pursed slightly. The expression would have been  _ fond _ on anyone else, and Geralt blanked his face once he saw Jaskier looking at him. 

Jaskier righted himself and slid off the table, landing on the balls of his feet. His socks were still mostly on, Geralt having ripped his boots off but not bothered with the socks after he freed Jaskier's legs from his pants, and Jaskier winced as he felt his sore muscles protesting the movement. Geralt reached out a hand to steady him and Jaskier gripped the offered support gratefully, wobbly on his feet. 

Once he was sure Jaskier wasn't going to fall over, Geralt let go of him to stoop down, grabbing Jaskier's discarded pants off the ground and handing them to him sheepishly. 

Jaskier accepted the pants and leaned back against the table, thrusting his arm down the leg holes so he could turn them inside out. As he worked, he watched Geralt, enjoying the way the large man seemed to have no idea what to do now. Geralt’s hands flexed by his sides as though he wanted to reach out for Jaskier, but instead he kept them where they were. The man couldn’t seem to look Jaskier in the eyes either. His gaze darted all over – at the bruises forming on Jaskier’s hips, away towards the grill, back to Jaskier’s hands as he fixed the uniform cuffs on the pants, up towards the door to the diner, and rinse and repeat. 

Having righted his pants, Jaskier stepped into them gingerly, favoring his sore thighs and ass as best he could. He could do nothing about the stains on his shirt from his own release except hope they came out in the wash. Clothed once more, Jaskier finally sighed and looked Geralt in the eyes, placing a hand on Geralt’s chest in order to get the man to look at him. 

Geralt met his gaze evenly, expression carefully blank as Jaskier bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. “I - I feel like ‘thank you’ is the wrong thing to say here, since I believe we both got a fair bit out of that, but well, I still feel the urge to say it.” He hesitated, running his hand down Geralt’s chest, distracted at the planes of muscle he felt there. Geralt hadn’t taken his shirt off, he’d barely unbuckled his pants even as he fucked Jaskier, and Jaskier was hit with a strong need to see the man shirtless, watch his skin move over the thick corded muscle Jaskier could feel through the shirt. 

Jaskier shrugged and looked away from Geralt. “I just, yeah, that was. That was good. At least, I thought it was good, yeah? I feel like you did too, anyway, it seemed like it, but then again–” 

Geralt halted Jaskier’s babbling by leaning in and kissing him soundly on the mouth, pressing Jaskier back as he did until he had Jaskier braced against the table once more and was licking into his mouth eagerly. Jaskier responded in kind, easily letting Geralt control the kiss, and when Geralt pulled back they were both breathless once more. 

Geralt didn’t go far, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s as they breathed into each other’s mouths. “I enjoyed it.” 

Jaskier grinned back at him, glad for the confession. “Well, that’s that then. I’m glad to hear I’m not a terrible lay.” Geralt rolled his eyes at that and pulled away, stretching his arms above his head. The movement made his shirt ride up, exposing a strip of skin, and Jaskier licked his lips at the sight. He didn’t get a good look, but from what he could see he thought that he saw a jagged scar across the flat plane of Geralt’s stomach. Jaskier knew better than to ask about it though, and he just offered Geralt a soft smile. 

“Listen, I - I’m about to fall over, I’ve got to sleep soon, but this was – if you’d be interested in maybe doing it again, sometime? I’m, uh, can I give you my phone number?” 

Geralt just looked at him for so long that Jaskier started second guessing the question, unsure if Geralt was about to kill him after all, but eventually Geralt gave him a slow nod. When Geralt pulled a phone out of his pocket and tapped a few buttons before handing it to Jaskier, Jaskier saw that he’d pulled up a new contact profile and quickly put in his information before hitting ‘save’. 

When Geralt took the phone back, he spared a glance down at the screen for a moment before looking back up at Jaskier with a wicked smirk. “Hmm, Jaskier, got it.” 

It took Jaskier a few moments to realize what the man meant, but when he understood he straightened sharply, giving Geralt a deep frown. “Oh, you - you brute! You didn’t bother remembering my name?” 

Geralt gave him a chuckle and it was such a genuine, soft sound that Jaskier couldn’t hold onto his exaggerated anger for long. He swayed forward and Geralt met him halfway, gathering Jaskier in his arms in a gruff but not unkind hug. 

“You were the one that never bothered to give me your name.” The words were rumbled and Jaskier had to strain to hear them as Geralt pressed his nose against Jaskier’s hair. “Not my fault you’d sleep with someone before telling them your name.” 

Jaskier huffed without any real annoyance and batted at Geralt’s arms, straightening himself. “Yes, well, my mistake.” He pointed to the phone in Geralt’s hands. “Now, I  _ know _ you’re not one for talking much, given all the grunting that I’ve gotten instead of full answers, but there’s this thing called texting where you type out words and they’re sent to another person, you don’t have to talk at all. I suggest you do so, to me, at some point in the next week, or else I’ll be very cross with you, alright?” 

Geralt gave him another smirk and nodded, leaning forward to brush his lips against Jaskier’s ear. “Alright. Shoulda known you’d be a cock-hungry little  _ slut _ , Jaskier.” The words were whispered and full of more promises, and Jaskier shivered bodily as Geralt drew back, looking rather pleased with himself. Jaskier couldn’t blame him, either: his cock was trying valiantly to get hard again at Geralt’s murmured words alone. 

A huge yawn interrupted any plans Jaskier had about trying to get a second round in, and he gave Geralt a sheepish smile. “Yes, well, let's say that I responded to that in a way that was very sexy and not at all implying that you in any way make me want to sleep.” He yawned again, covering his mouth and closing his eyes with the force of it. “I  _ do _ have to sleep, though, so I’ll take my leave.” He smirked back at Geralt. “Plus, your brother has probably pissed on the wall outside by now.” 

Geralt’s eyes widened and he grunted, swinging his gaze from Jaskier’s face towards the windows at the front of the diner. Jaskier didn’t expect he could actually see Lambert from there, but nonetheless Geralt’s eyes narrowed and he stepped back to let Jaskier stand up and move away from the table. 

Before he could leave the kitchen, however, Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrist lightly. Jaskier stopped, looking at Geralt in askance. Geralt hesitated and let go of Jaskier’s arm before his eyes darted towards the mess that lay spread over the floor, some of which Jaskier realized was the food Geralt made him. He deflated a little, running through his fridge in his mind and trying to remember if he had anything edible at home, and nearly missed Geralt’s next words. 

“Go tell Lambert he can come inside, but don’t leave yet. Give me five minutes and I’ll make you something to eat.” 

Jaskier hesitated but then nodded and pushed his way out of the kitchen door. There was something sizzling on the grill by the time he had the door to the diner open. When Jaskier popped his head outside, Lambert sprung up from where he was leaning against the side of the building. 

“Fucking finally.” Jaskier stepped back just in time to keep from getting run over as Lambert shoved his way inside, beelining for the bathroom. “Fuck whoever you want, Geralt, but don’t do it where I can hear you, alright?” 

The words were half shouted, and Jaskier looked back to Geralt in time to see the large man roll his eyes at his brother, not bothering to respond. 

Jaskier walked back over to the kitchen window and leaned forward, looking at Geralt as he worked. The man moved with a surprising amount of grace for someone so large, and Jaskier enjoyed watching him work even without the sexual tension so thick in the air between them. After another minute or two, Lambert reemerged from the bathroom, took one look at Jaskier and Geralt, and declared himself to be leaving until they could keep it in their pants before striding back outside. 

Geralt just snorted and kept working, flicking his head as he tried to keep his hair from falling into his eyes. It only took another few minutes before Geralt was scooping everything into a styrofoam container and shoving it through the kitchen window towards Jaskier, not looking Jaskier in the eyes. 

“Here, won’t make you stay and eat here when you’re dead on your feet.” The words were gruff and Geralt looked uncomfortable, but Jaskier just gave him a smile and accepted the box. 

“Thank you, Geralt, I appreciate it.” He hesitated, looking down at the food in his hands. “Umm, how much do I–” 

Geralt waved off the question, looking a little offended that Jaskier would ask. “On the house. Consider it a thank you for not giving me a ticket.” 

Jaskier grinned and smiled back at him. “Well, technically I’m not supposed to accept bribes, but I think I can make an exception in this case.” When Geralt just grunted at him, he grinned wider. Before Geralt could stop him, Jaskier elbowed the kitchen door open once more and dragged Geralt into a kiss, pulling the other man close for a few seconds before letting him go. “Text me, I mean it. I’ll give you a ticket the next time I pull you over if you don’t.” 

Geralt just shook his head and pushed Jaskier not unkindly out of the kitchen. “Tell Lambert it’s safe, and then get some sleep, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier did as he was told, shooing Lambert back inside as he left, and if he groaned audibly when he realized just how good the food was, well, he was the only one who knew. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anywayyyy Geralt may or may not be a secret monster hunter at night, something which I may or may not be planning a sequel of with Jaskier finding out at some point in the near future. 
> 
> I run a thirst/fanfiction discord server and it's lovely being around people who like talking about fic! 💕 If you want to join, you can find us at https://discord.gg/UQzEbqn
> 
> Also - I have zero money to pay for a commission but if anyone wants to draw Geralt wearing a 'kiss the cook' apron that Jaskier buys him as a joke and being *incredibly* grumpy about it, I would give you my firstborn.


End file.
